


Compositions

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Heartbreak, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will looks back on the different phases of his relationship with Hannibal after it's over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

The prelude to their story had been so good.

Will sighed as he thought back on the time he and Hannibal had spent getting to know each other, how he had reached out to the other man.

He had bloomed during that time, like a flower that had turned towards the sun. In that time, he'd still seen Hannibal as being the sun, rather than the darkness he actually was.

The prelude to their relationship had been one of the best times of his life. He hadn't realized at first that he was falling in love; he'd only thought that he had made a friend, that after all the long years of feeling alone and isolated, he had finally found someone who understood him.

It had been a time of self-discovery, of opening himself up to emotions that he hadn't realized could exist. It had been a time of wonder, of amazement.

Will hadn't wanted it to end. He had wanted to believe that he and Hannibal could have a future together, that their lives could connect and intertwine.

Yes, the prelude had been wonderful.

That had been such a time of happiness for him, once he'd realized that he _was_ indeed falling in love, and had let it happen naturally.

He hadn't known that he was falling in love with a killer, the murderer that he was spending most of his time searching for. He hadn't known what Hannibal was then; if he had, then he would never have let his emotions get the better of him. He would have recoiled from what he was doing.

But he hadn't known. He had lived in a fool's paradise, thinking that he'd finally found what he wanted in life, believing that he finally had it all.

It _had_ seemed as though he'd finally found everything he wanted, hadn't it? Will's lips twisted in a parody of a smile as he let his thoughts drift back over the past.

He'd been so happy with Hannibal then. The first time they'd made love had been a revelation for him; he had never felt anything like the physical sensations Hannibal aroused in him, and coupled with the emotional connection he had to his lover, their lovemaking had been powerful.

For the first time in his life, he had finally felt that he was no longer on the outside looking in. He'd believed that he had finally found everything he needed in life.

How could he have known that their prelude would lead to ultimate disaster?

Would it have been better if he'd never found out what Hannibal was? No, he couldn't let himself think like that. If he hadn't eventually discovered the truth, he would be dead.

If his lover had to make the choice between losing Will and keeping his crimes hidden, Will didn't doubt that Hannibal would have dispensed of him without a second thought.

Will fully believed that Hannibal would have killed him if he hadn't managed to keep his discovery of the truth a secret. Hannibal wouldn't let emotional involvement get in the way of saving his own skin. When it came down to brass tacks, Will had never really meant much to him.

He'd managed to get through the rest of that afternoon, even though he had wanted to cringe away from Hannibal rather than be close to him.

When he'd gone to Jack with what he had found, he'd sat there in the office as his boss had left, staring at the walls without seeing anything.

He had known that his life was crumbling around him.

He hadn't gone to Hannibal's house again until after his lover was safely behind bars. He hadn't gone back to that room in the basement where he'd first discovered those horrors.

All he'd done was walk slowly upstairs to the bedroom they had shared and taken the few clothes he kept there, then to the bathroom to retrieve his toothbrush.

After that, he hadn't been able to bring himself to go back to that house. He never would. He'd left behind a part of who he was there, a part of himself that he could never get back. The last vestige of his innocence had disappeared in that house, when he'd discovered what Hannibal really was.

Their wonderful prelude had turned into a relationship that he wanted to treasure forever, but would now be tainted forever by that hideous discovery.

Will blinked rapidly, refusing to let his emotions take him over. He'd done the right thing. He had done the only thing he could possibly have done under the circumstances.

He couldn't let Hannibal go free. Not after what he'd found.

But a part of him would always regret turning his lover in. A part of him would forever mourn what they had shared, as well as cursing himself for falling in love with a killer.

A part of him would always want to go back to their prelude, when everything had been good, he hadn't known what he was getting himself into, and he was in love. Those golden, glowing days of happiness that would never return, those days when he had thought he was on top of the world.

It was far too easy to go from being on top to hitting rock bottom, Will told himself with a sigh. And he knew that far better than most people ever could.

At least now, the only way to go was up.


	2. Toccata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of their relationship had been like a rapid toccata, a dance that left Will breathless.

Everything had moved so quickly after their initial meeting.

At the time, it had felt as though he was taking his time in getting to know Hannibal, but their friendship had moved by leaps and bounds.

It had been like a rapidly plucked toccata, springing from one point to another; he had revealed so much about himself, let Hannibal get into his head so quickly.

That was what he was supposed to do, wasn't it? Hannibal had been his psychiatrist; he'd been the person who Will should have been able to trust completely, and for a while, he'd let himself do that. He had hoped to find a friend, to finally have a person in his life who understood him.

When had that friendship subtly shifted towards a relationship? When exactly had he let not only his mind, but his heart reach out to the other man?

Will couldn't exactly put a finger on when his feelings had changed, but that didn't matter. The fact was that they _had_ , and that had been his downfall.

There had been so many changing emotions in those first weeks.

He'd gone from uncertainty and doubt, to love and longing -- and he'd let himself fall even when he'd known that it was dangerous for him to do so.

Dangerous in that he knew how susceptible he was to his emotions; if he let them have free rein, then he might throw caution to the winds and forget to protect his heart. 

He'd never allowed himself to do that in the past; he had always been cautious, always protected himself from any kind of serious involvement first and foremost. Well, he'd protected himself from any involvement at all, Will thought with a wry smile. He'd never let himself go, not with anyone.

With Hannibal, he'd not only tested the edges of the barriers he'd put up around himself for all of his life, but he'd burst through them, making them crumble into dust.

And now he was regretting those impulsive decisions, regretting what he'd felt. Regretting all that he'd so unknowingly let himself believe, all that he'd done.

He regretted falling in love with Hannibal.

Whoever loved Hannibal was ruined. He knew that now, all too well. He knew that he should never have let himself get so close to the other man, never have let himself _feel_.

He'd been a fool to believe that Hannibal could care about him in the same way. He should have known that he would never be anything more than an experiment to the other man, that Hannibal had never looked at him as anything more than a curiosity, a plaything to be used and then tossed away.

Will doubted that Hannibal had ever loved him as he'd said he did. Oh, he might have thought that Will was his _friend_ , but he had a twisted, perverted view of relationships.

Hannibal used people. He always had, and he always would. If only he'd been able to see that before he had let himself fall, let his heart become entangled.

Hindsight was always 20/20, wasn't it? Will thought wryly. It was easy to look back now and see everything that he _should_ have seen, to tell himself what he'd done wrong. But in the heat of the moment, seeing any flaws had been next to impossible, even though they'd been right there in front of him.

He'd been so enraptured by the rapid pace their relationship had taken that he hadn't been able to do anything but catch his breath and try to keep up with it all.

Which was exactly what Hannibal had wanted.

He had intended to sweep Will off his feet -- and he'd done just that. Will had been running to keep up, exhilarated by the direction his life seemed to be taking.

It had never occurred to him that he should slow down and be a little more cautious, that he should be more careful to preserve his memories and take care of himself.

He'd been under the impression that Hannibal was going to take care of him, that he had finally found the soul mate he'd always yearned for but had never thought he would find. He'd been so swept up in the intricate, quick steps of that toccata the two of them seemed to be dancing that he'd been blind.

He had let himself be swept away by the passion of new love, of desires that had finally risen to the surface being assuaged for the first time. He hadn't looked for trouble.

And when he had found trouble, he'd done the only thing he could do. He'd backed away from it, doing what he knew was the right thing even though his soul rebelled against it.

Would he ever be able to forgive himself?

He'd asked that question so many times since that fateful day, and he still didn't have an answer for it. Will wondered if he ever would. He doubted it. The question was unanswerable.

He didn't want to think that he would feel guilty for the rest of his life, but the truth was, he probably would. He had been the one to end their magical interlude.

He had been the one to bring it all crashing down around them. But what else could he have done? he asked himself. He'd never have been able to let Hannibal touch him again, not after what he'd discovered -- even though he still craved that touch more than he'd ever wanted anything.

Would he always feel this way, conflicted between knowing that he'd done the right thing and the crushing guilt he felt over what he'd had to do to the man he loved?

Will was sure that he would. The guilt was always be there, eating away at him. And even though he'd only done what he had to do, he knew that he would never escape that guilt.

There would be no rapid toccata to enable him to dance away from it.

No, he would always be faced with that guilt, and he would never be able to look Hannibal in the eye again because of it. He would never be able to see his former lover again.

If he did, he knew that all of those feelings would come pouring back over him again, and he couldn't risk that. There was no way that he could let those feelings break through the ironclad conviction that he'd only done what was right -- even though he'd had to betray his own heart.

He would live with that betrayal for the rest of his life, and he would build up yet more barriers around his heart. Barriers that would never again be broken through by anyone.

This time, he would keep himself safe -- from his own heart as well as from the world.


	3. Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's memories of his nights with Hannibal will never fade away.

The nocturne of their relationship had been like a dream come true.

Will had savored every one of those nights, holding them close to his heart, letting himself revel in the joy of loving and of being in love.

He had never thought that it could all come crashing down; all he'd been able to think of was how happy he was. He had gone to work every day with a smile on his face; he'd known that at the end of the day, he would be seeing his lover, and that knowledge had made his heart soar.

The days had always seemed too long; the time he'd had to spend away from Hannibal, teaching as well as working in the field, had been interminable.

But the nights had been marvelous. Those nights had belonged to the two of them; they had hidden themselves away in the bedroom, in the comfort of Hannibal's king-sized bed, and they had loved. Oh, how they had loved. Will had opened himself to every experience that he could possibly have.

And he had loved them all. He'd embraced everything that Hannibal had shown him with open arms, he'd begged for more, given himself to Hannibal in every possible way.

And it still hadn't been enough.

If only Hannibal had been able to leave his crimes behind for the two of them! Even if he had known at the time that his lover was a criminal, he would have held out that hope.

But, of course, Hannibal couldn't change who he was. And if he _had_ known about what his lover was during that magical time, he would still have brought things to an abrupt end by turning him in to the authorities? Wouldn't he? Will asked himself. Somehow, he wasn't so sure of that.

He didn't know if he would have been able to turn Hannibal in during that time. In spite of his own strong moral compass, he didn't think he could have borne to do so.

That would have destroyed all that they shared far too soon.

It was enough that he'd destroyed them now, wasn't it? But he'd had to do it; he couldn't have let Hannibal continue to kill, not after he'd found out.

Still, it had hurt, knowing that he had to turn his back on everything that he held most dear in the world. He'd had to turn his back on the love he'd felt, on those nights of passion that had taken him to the stars. He'd had to repudiate all that made his life worth living.

Will raised a hand to his eyes, ready to wipe away any tears that might rise to the surface, but none did. He supposed that he'd cried away all the tears he'd had stored up inside him.

There were no more tears left, no more emotions left. He was a cold, lonely, empty man without Hannibal in his life, just as he'd known he would be.

He had told himself when their relationship had first begun that if this ended, he would never be able to love again. He would never allow himself that luxury; Hannibal would be his one and only love, the one person who could touch his heart. He would never open himself up in that way again.

No one else could ever be what Hannibal had been to him. No one else could understand him in the way that Hannibal had; no one else would even want to try.

Hannibal had been everything to him -- and now everything had been taken away.

He knew better than to try to recreate what they had shared with any other person. It wouldn't be possible, because no one else could ever be like Hannibal.

Oh, they could try. Other people might want to try to take him to the heights that Hannibal had achieved; other people might think that they wanted to be his lover. But no one could know what he and Hannibal had shared between them, and they could never begin to duplicate those feelings.

It would be useless to try being with anyone else, Will told himself firmly. No one else could ever compare to the one lover who would always hold his heart.

He would be better off alone, if he couldn't have Hannibal by his side.

He hadn't realized just how much he would miss what they'd shared once it was over. He hadn't known until the first night he'd had to spend alone had brought it all back to him.

Tossing and turning, flinging off the covers before pulling them back up, pummeling his pillow .... he'd done all of that before the magical nights of lovemaking he'd shared with Hannibal, and now he was back to doing it again. He would keep doing that for the rest of his life.

WIll closed his eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to trace burning paths down his cheeks. He'd done what was right. He knew it. But doing the right thing _hurt_ so badly.

He wanted the nocturnes back. He wanted those nights of passion, then nights when Hannibal had held him and kissed him and made love to him. He wanted that magic back in his life, that magic that only Hannibal could bring. He wanted back that feeling of being .... loved.

But he would never have it. Those nocturnes would never play again; those nights were gone forever, consigned to be nothing more than fading memories.

No, not fading. He wouldn't let them fade away.

He would keep those memories strong and bright, never letting them die. He would remember them each and every night, going over them again and again in his mind.

He'd relive those nocturnes every night' he would keep those memories fresh, and they would have to be enough to fill up his lonely nights. If he couldn't have Hannibal's touch, his kiss, then he would at least have the memories of them, memories that he would never let go.

Yes, it would be lonely. But it would be better than trying to replace what he'd lost, and being disappointed when he realized that nothing could ever live up those memories.

And, after all, he was used to being lonely.


	4. Etude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As difficult as his relationship with Hannibal could be at times, the present days are even harder for Will to get through.

There had been difficult times in their relationship.

He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that. He and Hannibal were both strong-willed people, and neither of them would back down without a fight.

But wasn't it always difficult to make a relationship work sometimes? It wasn't as though they'd had problems that other couples didn't experience.

And somehow, they had always managed to work things out -- even though, looking back, Will had to admit that he had usually been the one to give in to whatever it was that Hannibal wanted. He hadn't wanted to enrage his lover, or run the risk of Hannibal turning his back on him.

That had been the crux of their relationship, really -- the fact that Will didn't want to be alone again, that deep down, he was afraid of losing Hannibal.

Hannibal had known that, and he'd used it to his advantage, Will thought bitterly. He had played on Will's fears of being alone again as skillfully as a violinist used his bow.

If he was honest with himself, he'd known that Hannibal was using him.

He had simply turned a blind eye to that fact, and told himself that he was grateful to have someone in his life who could understand him the way that Hannibal did.

He'd told himself that he was lucky, that if he didn't have Hannibal, he'd be alone again -- and that he would be even lonelier and more miserable than ever, because he'd known what it was like to have someone in his life and then had been stupid enough to drive them away.

Funny how he blamed himself in those mental scenarios, Will told himself, taking a deep breath. He never put any kind of blame on Hannibal. He always turned it inward.

He was sure that Hannibal blamed him for their difficulties, too.

He had always given Will such a sad look when they argued, as though he was the long-suffering victim, and Will was just being moody and throwing a temper tantrum.

Even when they had first become involved, Hannibal had known how to twist him around that elegant little finger, Will thought, anger beginning to surge within him. He was starting to wonder if Hannibal had ever loved him, or if he had just been a plaything, nothing more than a temporary amusement.

No, he couldn't believe that Hannibal had been that callous about him. He was sure that, in a strange way, Hannibal _had_ loved him.

But the kind of love that Hannibal felt wasn't _real_ love, he reminded himself. Hannibal was a serial killer. There was no way he could be capable of actual love.

Hannibal could never be selfless; everything he did would always benefit him first and foremost. He should know that by now, Will admonished himself. He couldn't let himself sink into a miasma of "what might have been," or he might never be able to crawl out of the pit of despair he would dig for himself.

He couldn't look back on his relationship with Hannibal with regrets. He had to remind himself to be glad that he had escaped with his life.

But, try as he might, he couldn't simply erase all that they had shared.

He wanted to do that. He wanted to forget everything, especially all the difficulties they'd had. That had been the etude of their relationship, the part that had been the hardest.

He'd kept asking questions that Hannibal hadn't wanted to answer, kept pushing to know more about his lover's past. He hadn't known just what horrible, dark secrets Hannibal was hiding; he'd only thought that his boyfriend hadn't wanted to answer his questions because the memories were too painful.

He had found out for himself just what Hannibal was hiding -- and he'd wished that he hadn't. He wanted to take it all back, for them to be able to start over again.

Of course, that could never happen. The damage was already done.

He couldn't turn back the clock, as much as he might want to do so. He couldn't simply erase what he knew and go back to the days when he had been happy with Hannibal.

He couldn't unlearn all that he'd found out about his lover. And even if he could, he had a feeling that the knowledge would always be there, hovering just out of sight.

It was better this way; he'd made a clean break with the past, turned his back on it all and slammed the door. He hadn't even been to see Hannibal since he'd been incarcerated and sentenced to life in prison; he knew that it would hurt too much if he saw his lover behind bars.

This was the only way that he could cope with all that had happened, with the loss that he had endured. He had to keep moving ahead, to leave their relationship in the past.

But still, no matter how difficult it had been at times, he wanted the past back. He wanted to go back to the days when he had been innocent in so many ways, when he had believed in Hannibal.

The days when he had still believed that love was all that mattered.

As difficult as the days of the etude of their relationship had been at times, Will knew that he would sell his soul if he could recapture them and go back in time.

That was impossible, and he knew it. He had done what he had to do, and he had to live with the consequences of the decision he'd made. He had to move forward, put one foot in front of the other each and every day, and let those slow movements take him further and further away from the past.

Further away from Hannibal, further away from all that they'd shared and never would again. Further away from the days of his innocence, the days when he'd felt that he _belonged_.

Further away from ever opening his heart to anyone again.


	5. Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easier said than done for Will to put the symphony of happiness that he'd shared with Hannibal behind him.

The symphony of their relationship had been so wonderful.

Every day had been a joyful one; he had woken in the morning with a smile on his face, looking forward to seeing his love at some point, knowing that they would be together.

The days when he had awakened in Hannibal's arms were the best ones; those were the days that had been utter bliss, when they had spent hours in bed.

There had been so much love between them then, the symphony of their bodies, hearts and souls playing out in what had seemed like a blissful dream. Will knew that those days had been precious ones; he wished that he had appreciated them even more then they had been happening.

But how could he have known that their symphony would come to an end? He had been foolish, allowing himself to believe that the two of them could last forever.

He hadn't known what a monster Hannibal was at the time. He had trusted the man he loved, believing that Hannibal was a good person, someone worth loving and being with.

He had been so wrong. If only he had known.

Will turned over in bed, closing his eyes and wishing that he could fall into a deep sleep, a sleep that would obliterate all of his thoughts for the rest of the night.

Of course, that was impossible. Even in his sleep, he thought of Hannibal. He dreamed of his former lover, unable to keep the other man out of his mind. Hannibal seemed to have seeped into the fabric of his being, permeating his life in every possible way.

He only wanted to forget the time that they had spent together, all that they had shared. He didn't want to remember how joyous their symphony had been.

He didn't want to remember how happy his life had been with Hannibal.

If he thought about that, then he would feel that he had nothing ahead of him, nothing to look forward to. He would look back at the past forever, and mourn for it.

That wouldn't be healthy for him, and in his heart, Will knew it. But it was _so hard_ not to look back at that past, to wonder what it could have been like if he hadn't found out about Hannibal. Would he have continued to be blind to the truth, to be happy, to let that symphony play itself out?

Probably, he thought with a sigh. Ignorance really _was_ bliss; he was certainly proof of that. He'd been so happy, thinking that his life was complete.

Until it had all come crashing down around him, and he'd found out just what he had been loving. The love hadn't died, not completely, but it had certainly dimmed.

He couldn't blame himself for that. No one could continue to love as fiercely as he had once they had known the full, unadulterated truth about who they loved. There was no way that he could forgive Hannibal for all that he had done, all the evil that he had perpetuated.

There was no coming back from that. Even if Hannibal were still a free man, Will knew that their relat8ionship, if it had continued, could never have been the same.

Their symphony had come to an abrupt and crashing halt.

If he was brutally honest with himself, he missed that symphony. He wanted it back. But that was impossible; there was no way to go back to the past.

And would he, even if he could? Will sighed, punching his pillow in frustration. No, he wouldn't. Even if it were possible to do so, he knew too much about Hannibal now, knew too many things that would make it impossible to see his love in the same way ever again.

He would never be able to love Hannibal in the same that he had loved him before. He wanted to; he really did. But it wasn't within his capabilities.

Too much knowledge had destroyed what they could have had.

The thought made him want to scream, to cry, to rail about the unfairness of life. But life was never fair, was it? He had come to know long ago that he couldn't expect that.

All he could expect was for life to throw him into different situations, and for himself to make the best of whatever fate decided to put into his path.

That was all anyone could do, he told himself with a soft sigh. Life gave everyone trials and tribulations to deal with; he was no different from anyone else. He just wished that his personal trials hadn't had to affect his emotional state, that they hadn't taken away the one person he had ever truly loved.

But he wouldn't let this destroy him. He was stronger than that; he'd been strong before, and he would be now. He would get through this, as hard as it might be.

He had already accepted the fact that his symphony with Hannibal was over. Now he had to move forward with his life, to let go of the past, and try to make a future for himself.

Though that was far easier said than done.

How did you erase someone from your heart who you had thought would be there forever? It was impossible to just let those memories die away completely.

And it was impossible to forget that symphony, that perfect dance of happiness that he had thought would never end. It was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done to get that out of his mind and heart, to push it into the back of his life, to go on without it for the rest of his days.

He would do it, Will knew. Somehow, he would manage to turn his back on that symphony, on that perfect happiness that had been within his grasp for such a short time.

But he would mourn it for the rest of his life, and beyond.


	6. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't want to hear any more sweet serenades; the first one has already left him broken.

There had been a time when he was so blissfully happy.

He had felt that he _belonged_ in a way that he never had before. He had basked in the sunshine of Hannibal's love, believing that it was real.

He'd felt that Hannibal was serenading him every day and night, that their hearts were as one, that the two of them were going to spend their lives together.

How wrong he had been. But for a wile, he had lived in a fantasy world, a world that had seemed like bright, beautiful, shining place. Maybe that was what being in love did to a person; it made them see the world as being a place of grand adventure, instead of the dark, dangerous place it actually was.

Being in love had kept him from seeing the dark underbelly of the world he lived in, even though he had been to crime scenes nearly every day and seen Hannibal's handiwork.

Would he have felt differently about those crime scenes if he had known that it was his lover who was committing all of those atrocious murders? Yes, of course he would.

But he had turned his back on what had been staring him in the face.

He had believed in Hannibal's serenade, believed that they shared something special. He had actually believed that the monster he'd been involved with had _loved_ him.

Hannibal wasn't capable of love; he was a serial killer who had no compassion for the human race. He was nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer with a stone for a heart.

Will knew that it had been foolish of him to believe that he was loved, but there was still a part of him that wished he could go back to those days when he had been in love, when he had believed that he finally fit in with the world, when he had been so gloriously happy.

Would he ever feel like that again? He seriously doubted it; that kind of love only came once in a lifetime, if at all, and when he had fallen from grace, he had fallen hard.

He doubted that he would ever look at love and relationships in the same way again. In that sense, Hannibal had managed to spoil him for all other men.

He didn't believe that he would ever find the kind of perfect happiness he'd known when their relationship was in its first bloom with anyone else. That only happened to anyone once; he would never be able to re-create it with another person, never be able to feel that bliss again.

That serenade had been so perfect, so beautiful. If anyone else tried to bring him to that point again, it wouldn't feel right. It would be jarring, discordant; it wouldn't ring true.

Will doubted that he would ever be able to love again, not in the way that he had loved Hannibal. His first love would more than likely also be his last.

Why was it that a first love was never the one that lasted?

And the first love was never one that was good for you, for peace of mind or lasting happiness, Will thought with a way smile. It was always the one that broke your heart the most.

But what would he know about love? His own had been crushed, shattered into millions of tiny shards, crumbling into dust and blowing away with the wind.

Love was never something to be trusted, he told himself bitterly. And neither was a sweet serenade that sounded too good to be true. It that was how it sounded, then it made sense to believe that it _wasn't_ true, that it never could be, and to run from it as fast as was possible.

He should have done that. He should have run from that siren's serenade, should have put his hands over his hears and refused to hear it -- or to believe i.t

But he had, much to his everlasting regret. And he could still hear that serenade, sounding as sweet to his ears as it had the first time he'd heard those dulcet strains.

He would never believe it again, never let his heart trust in that sweetness.

He didn't want that sweetness in his life. He didn't need it. Now that the original serenade was over and done with, he didn't want to hear it from anyone else.

Will knew that he would never hear such a siren song again -- and that his heart would never respond to another one the way it had to Hannibal's. That kind of serenade was only sung to one's heart once in a lifetime; once it was over, it never came again with the same poignancy as the first.

He didn't want to hear it again, and he didn't want to remember it. He would only be reminded of all that he had once held dear and had lost, at such a high price.

The price he'd paid to let his heart hear that serenade had cost him far too much in the end.


	7. Concerto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can't get the beautiful music of the concerto he and Hannibal created in happier times out of his mind -- or his heart.

He didn't want to think about how their relationship had slowly wound down.

Will sighed softly, curling up under the covers of his bed. It was a Saturday morning, so he had no reason to get up, and he hadn't slept well the night before, anyway.

He just wanted to lie here and go back to sleep, to sink into a dreamless oblivion that would give his mind -- and his heart -- some measure of needed peace.

But even as he closed his eyes, Will knew that peace wasn't for him. He was doomed to think about Hannibal, to dream about him, and to mourn the lost relationship that could never come again. Every time he drifted off to sleep, memories overtook him, refusing to let him be.

If only he could go back to those days of happiness and innocence, when he had thought that his lover was the perfect man -- and he had been joyful for what felt like the first time in his life.

Those days were long gone now, the days when his love for Hannibal had seemed like a concerto that would never end, a beautiful piece of music that would play on indefinitely.

That concerto had been so beautiful, he told himself sadly.

Who would have ever believed that it could possibly come to an end? He hadn't; he had thought that it would play on and on, a never-ending song of love.

He had been a fool to believe that he was loved, that they would last. He should have realized from the start that there was something intrinsically _wrong_ with Hannibal, that there was something skewered about his behavior, that there had been an imbalance in their emotions.

Oh, he didn't doubt that Hannibal had _thought_ he loved Will. But Hannibal was a serial killer. He wasn't capable of feeling _real_ love.

His kind of love was twisted, convoluted -- and deadly.

Hannibal couldn't love, even though he might try. Will only wished that he had sensed the discordance in the concerto of what he had thought was love.

How could he have been so blind not to recognize that discordance? But he didn't really have to ask himself why -- he knew the reasons, all of them.

Really, there was only reason. He had been in love, so deeply in love that he had been wearing blinders. He hadn't let himself look to one side or the other; he had only looked directly ahead of him, directly into that bright shining light of his love, the love that he had thought would last forever.

He hadn't wanted to see anything but what he'd thought was the truth, and that had been his downfall. He had refused to take his surroundings into consideration.

That was one of the first things any cop was taught -- to be aware of everything around them, of the shifts in emotion, of the general aura that surrounded any situation.

He hadn't let himself pay attention to that aura. He had deliberately ignored anything that seemed out of place, brushing it away as something that others were trying to put in front of him as an obstacle to get over. He had put it down to other people being jealous of what he had.

He hadn't let himself realize that those discordant notes had come from Hannibal himself, that the concerto had been slowly winding down to its inevitable close.

Hannibal had kept secrets from him, and though he had known it at the time, he hadn't wanted to let himself believe that his lover could hide a part of himself away.

He had been willfully blind, and that was his own fault.

He should have known better than to rush into what he thought was love without having both eyes wide open, without looking around to be sure that his heart was safe.

If he'd been wiser, he would have been sure to keep that heart protected, to not give it away before he was absolutely sure that it wouldn't be shattered into millions of tiny shards that he knew he would never be able to piece back together again. But he hadn't been wise. Not at all.

He had let himself rush in, let himself be blind to everything around him in that first rush of love, only paying attention to the beautiful concerto that had been playing in his mind, and in his heart.

That music had deafened him to everything else, to his own detriment.

Now, the man he loved was in a prison cell for the rest of his life. And Will had to live with the knowledge that he was the instrument of that imprisonment.

He would always feel guilty about that; the knowledge that _he_ had been the one to put the man he loved behind bars would forever be a thorn in his side.

It didn't make him feel any better to know that he had done the right thing, that Hannibal was a danger to society. His love might have diminished, and he might feel unspeakable horror at the crimes that his former lover had committed. But that didn't assuage his own guilt.

And it certainly take away the sadness that he felt at losing the man he loved, at having that beautiful concerto come to an abrupt end and fade out of his life forever.

Their love song had come to an end because of his own moral compass, and even though he knew that it had been the right thing to do in the long run, that didn't make it hurt any less.

Will sighed again, pulling the covers closer over him.

Would he always feel like this, or would the guilt eventually fade away and become a dull ache instead of this throbbing, festering pain in his heart?

He didn't want this pain to go on. It was already unbearable, and Will had the definite feeling that it was only going to become worse with time. The more he thought about it, the more acute it would become. He _shouldn't_ think about it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

The memory of their concerto, when it had been playing in his heart, would always haunt him. That sound would never go away, never leave him in peace.

Maybe he didn't deserve to have the peace of mind that he craved.

If would be his punishment to have that concerto, that beautiful music that he had thought would last forever, always playing in his heart to torment him.

With that thought in his mind, Will drifted off to sleep, unaware that tears were slowly slipping down his cheeks even as he surrendered himself to blessed slumber.


	8. Fugue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will was in a dreamlike fugue state during his relationship with Hannibal, but now, his eyes have been opened.

He had been in such a fugue state through most of his relationship with Hannibal, Will reflected. A state that had proven he had lost his heart.

If he hadn't fallen so deeply in love, he would never have been able to be so relaxed with Hannibal, never have let his guard down to such an extent.

But he had, and it had proven to be his downfall.

He would never do that again, he told himself. Never again would he let himself trust someone so completely. Never again would be give his heart unreservedly.

Doing so had left him vulnerable, in a way that made him horribly uncomfortable. He knew that he would never be able to let himself love so freely again.

Did other people feel that way? Did others get so badly burned that they _knew_ , beyond a shadow of a doubt, that their hearts had been scorched and seared so horribly that they would never be able to hold them out to another person, never be able to trust anyone in the future?

He was sure that they did, but at the moment, it felt as though _he_ was the only one who had ever experienced such betrayal, such heartache.

Yet Hannibal would be the one to say that _he_ had been betrayed, Will thought, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile. Hannibal would consider himself the victim in all this.

Of course, Hannibal would see himself as the victim.

He had considering himself to be holding out some kind of prize to Will, something that anyone would want to have. The chance to live completely without a conscience.

But Will had recoiled from that, and to Hannibal, that made him the enemy, someone who had turned his back on what, in his deepest, secret heart, he had most wanted.

That wasn't true, Will told himself, shaking his head. He _didn't_ want what Hannibal had been offering him. He was no killer, no murderer who could kill with impunity. He was nothing like Hannibal, and never would be. In fact, he was the _opposite_ of the other man.

He had too much of a conscience. His very soul rebelled against everything that Hannibal was, everything that his former lover had wanted him to become.

He could never be like Hannibal. He could never kill someone just for the sake of killing, simply because it might feel good at the moment, something that felt .... _powerful_.

The few times that he _had_ killed, he had felt sickened afterwards, and he had struggled to come to terms with the fact that he had taken human lives, even if it was either in self-defense or to protect an innocent person. He would never quite be able to accept the fact that he had killed.

He would always feel remorse, and that was where he and Hannibal differed greatly. Hannibal didn't give a damn that he was a killer. He cared nothing for the lives that he took.

To Hannibal, human life meant nothing. He could simply toss it aside, shrug it away as though it had never been. And that attitude made Will repudiate him.

How could he have ever loved someone like that?

Will didn't know if he would ever be able to reconcile the part of him that had loved Hannibal with the other part, the one that was repulsed by everything Hannibal was.

He still wasn't sure just how he had fallen in love; it had happened gradually, over a period of time. But he had felt a wild desire for Hannibal when they had first met.

Hannibal had recognized that desire, and he had used it to his full advantage. He had tried his best to make Will into a mirror image of himself, to lure him into that darkness that had always been around the edges of his consciousness and had beckoned to him so seductively.

But in the end, Will's conscience had won out, even though he had been in such a rapturous fugue state during most of their relationship that he almost hadn't listened to it.

It was a good thing that he had, he told himself with a soft sigh. If not, then _he_ could very likely be behind bars right now, next to Hannibal.

Oh, _that_ would have been a situation for Hannibal to take pride in.

Fortunately, though, it hadn't happened. He had been able to extricate himself in time, and he would never fall under the spell of anyone else again.

He would never again give his heart to anyone. He wasn't even sure that his heart was in one piece now; it felt broken and smashed, shattered into so many tiny shards that he would never be able to make it whole again. That was what his relationship with Hannibal had ultimately left him with.

A shattered heart, and a mind that cowered away from even the idea of another relationship. He was left a shadow of who he had been before all of this.

And Hannibal knew that very well.

The fugue state that he had been in through their relationship was something that he would never allow himself to sink into again. Those days were over.

No more trusting, Will told himself firmly. No more giving his heart away. Hannibal had destroyed that for him. He was done with relationships, done with feelings.

He would resign himself to living a very lonely life.

A life where he would never again let himself trust -- or love.


	9. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will knows that he'll hear the requiem march that marks the end of his relationship with Hannibal playing in his mind for the rest of his life.

This was their requiem, then.

They went out not with a bang, but a whimper. Will almost wanted to laugh at that those words; he'd never thought that they would fit into his life.

He'd never thought that he would have anyone in his life, or a relationship to mourn the end of. That was a step further than he'd ever thought he would be emotionally.

If he had never had Hannibal in his life, never known the good times, then he wouldn't be able to miss them, he told himself, heaving a sigh. At least he'd had those good times, even though they had been a carefully crafted illusion that had been fated to fall apart.

All he had now was his memories of a happier time, and the loneliness that he knew would permeate his life from now on. He could never go back to his former happiness.

And he could never be that happy again with anyone else. As much as he hated to admit it, Hannibal had been the one for him, the man he would judge all others by.

Anyone else could only be found wanting.

How could anyone else measure up to the man who he knew would always be the one true love of his life? No one else could ever do what Hannibal had done for him.

Hannibal had brought him out of the self-imposed isolation that he'd always built around himself, taught him how to come out into the world and embrace it.

Of course, that had been an ongoing process, and he was still something of a loner. He had always been on the shy side, but he'd been combating that shyness, with his lover's help. Now, he supposed that he would go back into that shell he'd always hidden himself away in.

What would be the point in continuing to make himself be social? There was no reason for him not to isolate himself now. He would always be associated with Hannibal in most people's eyes.

The full truth of their relationship might not have been made public, but people would always see him as someone who had been close to Hannibal. He'd never escape that association.

Everyone would assume that he had somehow known what Hannibal was and what he was doing. No one would ever view him in the same way; even though he hadn't had a clue, there would be people who'd never believe him. He would always be viewed with suspicion.

That was the legacy that loving Hannibal had left him, Will thought bitterly. A broken heart, and a broken life that it would be difficult to piece back together again.

He was experiencing not only a requiem for the one relationship he would ever have, but for his life in general. Will was sure that he would shut himself away for good after this.

Oh, he didn't mean that in a physical sort of way.

To the world, he would be much as he had always been, though maybe he would seem more withdrawn, more isolated than he'd been when he and Hannibal were together.

He would simply back away, and be more as he had been before he and Hannibal had ever met. The people around him wouldn't think that was odd.

After all, they would surmise, he had lost someone who he'd thought was a friend. He was mourning that friendship; they would understand that, and respect it. They would think that he had simply taken a few steps back from being social, which, under the circumstances, was natural.

They wouldn't know that he was mourning not only a friendship, but the loss of all that he'd held close to his heart. He was burying all of his hopes and dreams for the future.

The requiem for those dreams would be a constant refrain playing in his head from now on. Will was sure that the sound of it would never go away.

It was a constant refrain of regret for what might have been.

Will knew that he would live with that regret for the rest of his life, hear that requiem playing every day, during his waking hours and in his dreams.

He would never be able to shake it, never be able to banish it from his mind. It would be a constant reminder of all that he'd had, and everything that he had lost.

Lost? No, he'd given it away. He knew that he had done the right thing, but in the end, that was cold comfort. He was left with nothing, only the ashes and the remnants of broken dreams. Nothing to build a future on, nothing other than his memories to look back on.

He would always have the knowledge that he'd done the right thing. He had protected society, and put a criminal behind bars. He'd done what he knew was right, in the end.

But that requiem would always play in his mind, in his heart, to remind him of the cost of doing the right thing, of all that he had given up and walked away from.

It was the hardest thing that he'd ever done.

And he would be paying for it for the rest of his life, Will thought, sighing again and resting his head in his hands. His regrets would live with him for all of his days.

The past was the past, and he couldn't relive it. But he knew that he would spend the rest of his life looking back at it, and wishing that their story could have had a much happier ending.


End file.
